


What if.... ? (aka Joffrey goes to the Wall)

by agentknitter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Joffrey at the Wall, Ned ain't dead, Not Serious, Robert Baratheon grows a brain, Stannis is left grinding his teeth on Dragonstone, Tywin Lannister forced to grovel, and if this is a fix it I'm damn well fixing it so that Ned doesn't die OK, crackfic, heh, open to suggestions for what to do with Joffrey at the Wall, place your bets on who turfs him off the Wall, swearing ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentknitter/pseuds/agentknitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a discussion at reddit.com/r/asoiaf</p><p>What if Robert Baratheon had been informed about Cersei's twincest? What would the outcome be? </p><p>I suggested that the twins would lose their heads for treason, Tywin would be forced into losing all power and prestige, and having to make Tyrion his heir, while the boys Joffrey and Tommen would be sent to the Wall. </p><p>This then led us off on the bunny trail of the hilarity possible with Prince Joffrey I Am Too Good For Everyone mixing it with the Crows of the Night's Watch. </p><p>We give him two weeks before he annoys someone so much that they push him off the Wall.... </p><p> </p><p>NB: I've never written fanfic in my life, and have no intention of trying to outdo GRRM or be all that serious. Fuck it. Life's too short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I dunno what age Littlefinger was when he challenged Brandon Stark to a duel, and I kinda don't care! I'm winging it.

Since arriving in King's Landing, Ned Stark had been a busy man. 

He and Cat had already discussed the likelihood of Littlefinger being trustworthy: slim to none. The little rat of a man who had risen so high to be Master of the Coin clearly had his wife's sister wrapped around his finger, just as he had when they were children and young ladies and man at Riverrun. Cat remembered the mad glint in his eye when 16 year old Petyr Baelish had challenged 20 year old Brandon Stark to a duel for her hand. Idiot. He had been her friend as a child, but she had long since grown tired of the not so subtle japes he made about her teats and the leer he could not hide when staring hungrily at her and Lysa. Poor Lysa was not prepared to listen to Cat's warnings about the kind of man Petyr was becoming though, and had long since been his lover. They were hardly secretive about it and it didn't require the talents of Varys the Spider to work it out. Cat had long known that Lysa was happier with her lover Littlefinger than she was with her lord husband Jon Arryn. The message that Lysa sent by raven claiming that Jon's poisoning was the work of the Lannisters made Cat and Ned uneasy. It was feasible - there was certainly reason to suspect Cersei Lannister of being greedy enough for more power. But neither could shake off the feeling that Lysa's story was too easy, too palatable. What if there was a deeper agenda, someone else wanting the Starks to go to war with the Lannisters? 

Cat and Ned discussed this in veiled terms when she came to King's Landing in secret after the attack on Bran. Ned quietly sent some of his better men back North with her to guard their family, not so many that would be noticeable to any in King's Landing, but enough to alleviate some of the worry he felt at being so far away from his family and unable to protect them himself. 

Cat warned Ned to be careful. Not to be stupid. To be nice and honourable, as everyone thought he was, but to quietly investigate and work out what the hell was going on. And in kind Ned kissed his wife farewell and told her to be calm, considered and not to act rashly. 

So Ned smiled nicely at everyone once Cat left to go back to Winterfell to care for their children, and began his work to make sense of the mess that was the reign of Robert Baratheon, First of His Name blah blah blah. 

His oldest friend had spent far too long mooning over what never was with Lyanna, and failed to see what a mess he had made of this opportunity. Fuck, they went to war to eradicate the mad dragons, and what was all that for? Apparently all they fought for was so that Robert could grow fat and stupid with wine and feasts, and fuck any whore he wanted. 

Because he certainly wasn't fucking his golden-haired wife, Cersei Lannister. Ned watched the royal couple when they were at Winterfell, and on the road back to the capital. Cersei's loathing for her royal husband was barely concealed, anyone could see it. As could anyone who cared to look closely see the lingering glances of affection between her and her brother, the Kingslayer. There was something going on there, far more than mere sibling affection. Ned remembered the conversation that he had overheard between his older brother Brandon, their father Rickard and Lord Hoster Tully at Harrenhal, all those years ago. Rickard was reminding Hoster that perhaps it wasn't such a loss to have Lysa's potential groom taken from the proposed contract with Tywin Lannister and off to the King's Guard, for sources within Casterly Rock say that the Lannister twins were far closer than was ever appropriate for siblings. Close like Targaryens were. And those golden haired children of her gave it all away. There was not a trace of Baratheon in any of them. Seven Hells, Joffrey was like a little walking homage to the Kingslayer - except with all his mother's madness.

Incest is an abomination in the eyes of all gods, old and new, but Ned wasn't stupid: he knew he had to take proof to Robert, more than just suspicions. But what? 

The answer lay in following the footsteps of Jon Arryn. First to the blacksmith boy; looking at him was like looking through a window of time and seeing his old friend in the Eyrie, as they learned to wield swords together. Then the book from Pycelle's collection. Was it enough? Would it be enough to convince Robert to see what was right in front of him? 

Ned had written to Stannis, cagily suggesting that they combine their efforts in persuading Robert to address the matter of his *rightful* heirs. Ned remembered Stannis Baratheon well from the war, although they had not served together as Stannis had been caged inside Storm's End by the Tyrell forces. He was methodical, crafty and deliberate. The fact that Stannis had vacated his seat on the Small Council and retreated to Dragonstone boded ill for the realm: Ned hoped he could entice Stannis back to the negotiation table to work with him, and not against him. 

Ned hoped, but Ned did not delay. Ned was not stupid. Stannis seemed to have his own agenda, and his silence was enough for Ned. Stannis would not help him, so Ned would have to do this alone. 

He sent Jory Cassell back to the blacksmith's, to bring the boy to court, ostensibly to take Ned's measurements for some new armour. While all the Northmen with him would know this was nonsense, as Mikken's work was serving fine, it gave them the cover they needed to get Robert's bastard boy inside the Red Keep. 

Then he asked Robert to come and meet with him, bringing only Renly and Barristan the Bold. Ned was quite specific in that. He couldn't afford to have Lannister-sympathetic King's Guard hovering around and hearing this meeting. Renly had already given Ned an idea for how to soothe Robert's likely rage when he found out he had been cuckolded. The Tyrell girl looked nothing like Lyanna, Renly was talking out of his arse on that front, but she was comely enough and connected enough to be a suitable replacement Queen... once the Lannisters had been removed from power. 

So, like a cyvasse player, Ned laid all his pawns out.... and waited.


	2. Robert finds out and loses his shit... predictably

Ned calmly sipped at his wine, letting his oldest but certainly not dearest friend rage around his rooms. Thank the gods Ned had the sense to make sure Arya and Sansa, and that nosy Septa were far, far away from the Hand's chambers this afternoon. 

Renly hadn't seemed that surprised by Ned's suggestions that the Baratheon children were actually Lannister incestous bastards. So unsurprised that Ned felt like punching the little shit. "He couldn't have told me that he and Stannis were in on Jon Arryn's damn investigations? Or was he planning to use the knowledge to gain more leverage over his oldest brother, further opportunities to screw over the middle child Stannis." Ned sighed. Even his thoughts were giving him a headache. 

After a good hour of yelling and threatening to serve Tywin Lannister a dose of his own Castamere medicine, Robert finally came back to the table. Well, where the table had been. Ned had the sense to keep a hold of the jug of Arbor gold and his goblet. Renly hadn't. The one bright spark to this whole predictable clusterfuck of a reaction was watching Renly cop a full goblet of wine in the face, and the poor blacksmith bastard's jaw drop as his king and father threw a wooden table clear across the room. Fat and older Robert Baratheon might be, but he still bore much of the strength of his youth. This gave Ned hope that things would not go any further pear shaped in the realm. 

Ned offered fresh goblets of wine for all. 

"Now Robert - I need you to be quiet, for once in your life, and listen to me."

"You dare command your King?!" yelled the rehydrated stag. 

"Well, your Grace rode all the way to Winterfell to DEMAND that I come down to this cesspool of shit to advise you and save your kingdom, so yes: you will fucking listen." Ned had no time for playing the game of thrones now. He needed to ensure that Robert handled this in a civilised and appropriate way, and not to let the blood lust take over as it had all those years ago when Robert had smiled at the crushed remains of Elia Martell and her children. Or even the other week, when Ned had tried to hand in his badge of office, refusing to grant assent to a foolish scheme to assassinate a far off girl bride who was of no threat to Robert's reign. Especially not when the lions were circling at his own door now. 

Robert looked furiously at Ned for this lack of royal courtesy. Poor Gendry looked like he was about to shit himself. Perhaps it wasn't wise to leave the boy with them beyond presenting him as evidence that Robert's looks should have been passed on to his children - two hours ago he was an orphan with a hard working life as a competent blacksmith ahead of him. Now he not only had a father, but had watched his father smash up more possessions than Gendry had ever seen gathered in one place before while declaring how he would gut his lady wife for fucking her brother. It was a bit much for anyone to deal with at once. Ned suspected Gendry would rather like the floor to open up and swallow him rather than deal with any more of this chaos. Renly seemed to be licking his lips in anticipation of Robert punching out Ned - "oh? So is that how it is young stag? You fancy yourself as Hand of the King do you?" thought Ned. 

But the tension in the air dissipated when Robert laughed one of his famously deep bellied laughs. "Ah, seven hells. That I did! Well then Ned. What would you do with the Lannister bastards then?" 

Ned smiled and relaxed in his chair. The corner had been turned. Robert was older now, wiser and more cynical than he had been in that flush of youth when they took King's Landing as victorious rebels. Perhaps his friend had finally learned to understand the value of carefully considered planning. 

"What I propose is that first, you actually look at your own bastard son. Poor fellow has just had his life turned upside down, and you haven't even acknowledged his presence in this room! Gendry, take a drink. I promise we have not poisoned your wine!" 

Now reminded of the young man's presence in the room, Renly also turned to this baseborn nephew and smiled. "It will be good to welcome more to the Baratheon family, even if you are bastard born. We can make sure you live a better life than that of a blacksmith in King's Landing."

Ned was still staring at Robert, as if in hope that he could mentally force his friend to do the honourable thing, just this once. Robert held Ned's gaze, as if daring him to continue reproaching him, the king, but eventually sighed and turned to the boy, eyeing him off like a head of cattle. 

He sighed again. "It's like looking in a mirror, and seeing my 15 year old face again. Boy, I must confess I have no memory of your mother. Sadly she was probably one of the hundreds of whores I've had,"

Ned and Renly exchanged a glance - this was not exactly the kind of father-son talk they had in mind. 

For once in their lives, Robert actually noticed the exasperation of his brother and friend, changing quickly to say "but I'm sure she was quite lovely! Renly is right. We will see you right. At least that's one bastard I can do right by. Gods know I've ignored all the others. Perhaps you want to be a knight of Storm's End?" 

Gendry choked on his wine. When he finished spluttering, his voice came gruff and uncultured, but sure of himself: "If it's all the same, I quite like being a blacksmith. I never had no education, so I'm no use to you as a prince. If you don't want me, you don't have to feel obliged. I can make my own way, like I always have." 

Robert laughed, "Stubborn as a mule, hey? Yep - you're my son. You can smith if you like, but know you can smith anywhere. Nor will you want for money to start your own family in good time." Gendry seemed surprised at this, and unsure what to do or look at next. 

Robert kept laughing and drinking, refilling his goblet again. "Yes. Now he's calm enough to listen to my proposals," thought Ned. 

Ned stood, and indicated for Gendry to do likewise. "Now that your future is settled, perhaps you'd feel more comfortable taking an ale in an atmosphere with a little less... scheming and strange," Ned suggested to the boy, smiling when Gendry eagerly took the invitation to get the fuck out of that room with as little offence to the others as possible. "Poor kid," thought Ned. "He doesn't need to know the rest of it just yet." He'd made sure that Jory Cassell and a couple of other men from Winterfell were out there to collect Gendry, take him straight to the nearest pub and get him solidly drunk to help the young man recover from what had undoubtedly been the weirdest day of his life thus far.

"So Ned," boomed Robert's voice calling Ned back from his reverie. "What is your grand plan to rid me of these treacherous lions?" 

Ned turned and smiled. "Quite simple. Cersei and Jaime must die, under any laws of Westeros, the Seven or the old Gods. They have conspired to cuckold the ruling king, leaving bastards born of incest to take the Iron Throne after you. Whatever options we have for the rest of the Lannisters, there is little else that the laws of gods and men say is appropriate for them."

"Excellent!" Robert was back to his old ways, always happy at the thought of spilling some blood. Ned sighed, and pressed on. 

"As cruel and capricious as Joffrey is, modelled by his mother in her own vain image, he is still a child. And you know my thoughts on the killing of children." Ned punctuated that last remark with a solemn but stern gaze. Robert need not know what other child he was thinking about when he made this point clear. Jon was now at the Wall, and well out of the way of Robert's rage against Rhaegar and his kin, but Ned had never forgotten why he had taken such pains to hide his nephew as his bastard all these years. Robert's rages were not to be trusted, not around children of those nobles who had wronged him. They were too easy a target, and his friend was wrong to see children like that. 

Robert snorted to indicate what he thought of his friend's honour, but mercifully did not interrupt him this time. 

"There are other ways to dispose of those who have been born complicit in this treachery but innocent of any planning of it - the Wall. Denounce the three children as bastards, disinherit them and send the boys to the Wall." 

Once again, Robert was filled with bombastic laughter. "Gods above - can you imagine the comeuppance that little shit Joffrey is going to get once he's sent to the Wall as a bastard? It would almost be worth escorting him there personally to watch him piss off every single man of the Night's Watch!" Renly joined with his brother in laughing at this, and Ned couldn't resist a wry grin either. The young prince was vain, arrogant, stupid and had been coddled by his paranoid mother so much that he was next to useless with a sword, no matter what posturing he might do to Robb and Jon in the training yard at Winterfell. Trains with live steel hey? Ned had laughed when his sons told him of that particular episode of Joffrey's, and now he looked forward to letters from Jon and his brother Benjen at the Wall, letting him know just how poorly Joffrey had been prepared for any life, let alone the life of a traitor and bastard at the Wall. Ned gave the blonde shit 2 weeks, maximum, before he annoyed some Watchman so much that they quietly shoved him off the Wall to his death. Ned might not condone the killing of children for political reasons, or for war, but he was under no illusion about how mad and cruel that child was already. Joffrey was beyond hope, but Tommen.... maybe. The Wall had need of good men, and Tommen could be shaped into a solid young soldier if he took after his true father at all. 

Interrupting his friend's laughter, Ned moved on, "Myrcella is a conundrum. She can either be sent to the Silent Sisters, or she can be sent back to Casterly Rock as a bastard ward for Tywin Lannister to deal with. I'll leave that up to you, your Grace, to decide what to do with her. She is not as tainted by her mother's influence as Joffrey, and like the youngest Tommen, she is innocent of any scheming against you. When we announce the children's true heritage, it will ruin her as she is old enough to understand the implications of the world 'bastard'. Tommen is not. He will not understand what it all means for many years to come." Ned spoke with the experience of raising Jon Snow, his supposed bastard son, and the sad memories of the times Jon came crying to him as a young boy, not understanding why some of the men and women of Winterfell, or even his own Lady Catelyn, were so cruel to him. A glimmer of sadness passed over Robert's face too. While Robert had no idea that Jon Snow was really Ned's nephew, he knew that Ned was speaking from experience of raising a boy too young to know what 'bastard' meant, and how the boy had reacted when he was finally old enough to figure it out. 

Shaking off this momentary display of humanity, Robert shifted in his chair and reached for the wine again. "Yes, and about Lord Tywin himself Ned - what do you suggest there?" asked Robert. 

"Surely we can lay the blame for his children's behaviour at his feet?" suggested Renly. "Tywin Lannister's arrogance and lust for power for his House is legendary. Can't we just tell the realm he planned it all and get rid of him? Certainly would be a fine way to write off all those debts the Crown owes to Casterly Rock." 

Ned cut in before Robert could enthusiastically agree with his little brother. Ned had been waiting for an opportunity to cut down that monster of the Rock since he first saw the glee in Lord Tywin's eyes when he presented the mauled bodies of Elia Martell and little Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen. 

"No. Death is too short a punishment for a man like Tywin Lannister. Let him live with the shame and dishonour that his golden heirs have cast upon his grand House. Let him live in the knowledge that he must now finally acknowledge the dwarf Tyrion as his heir, for the other options will be dead or at the Wall. Let him sit and stew in Casterly Rock, while forcing him to pay off the Crown's debts to the Iron Bank of Braavos as the condition on which he and Tyrion Lannister keep their heads at all. Tyrion Lannister will be held under guard in King's Landing as a hostage to his father's good behaviour - not least because the dwarf at least is the one Lannister of this generation with any sense, and you will need someone with intelligence around. But make it clear to Tywin that his House's very survival is dependent upon him agreeing to these conditions, for if he does not then you will expunge the stain of House Lannister from the records of Westeros in the same way that Tywin himself dealt with the Tarbecks and Reynes. He will live, but only to see his pride be the source of Westeros' laughter for decades to come. He will retain Casterly Rock, but all its wealth beyond a bare minimum needed to supply the people of the Westerlands with the basics of life will be sent to the Crown to service the realm, as payment for the wrongs done by House Lannister to the King, for now until the gold mines of Casterly Rock run dry." 

Robert blew out his cheeks. "Well fuck me Ned. I never knew you had it in you to be so cold." The King then grinned, "it sounds like a FINE punishment for proud Tywin to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to skip through all the King's Landing based shit as fast as possible and get to the Good Ship CrackFic that is Joffrey at the Wall. Don't you?
> 
> But I am SHAMELESSLY attached to R+L=J and have no fucks at all to give about those extra flourishes.


	3. Tommen en route to the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I either have to get stuck in King's Landing, figuring out how Not Stupid Ned goes about dismantling Littlefinger's schemes, or I can just dump it and head off to the Wall, and deal with the fallout of Cersei and Jaime's executions in flashbacks. 
> 
> Eh. 
> 
> Also I don't remember where Ser Pounce came from in the books, but I'm a cat lover and attached to him, so he's staying.
> 
> Also: last set up chapter before we get to the crackfic of Joff annoying folk at the Wall!

"Stop crying, you ridiculous little shit. You make us Lions look weak."

Joffrey spat these words at his younger brother, who was quietly sniffling again. Tommen knew that Joffrey always thought he wasn't much of a lion. Pity now everyone in the world knew that they were only lions, and not stags. Tommen didn't really understand what 'bastard' meant, but it wasn't hard to work out what it meant for his future when his world was turned upside down. 

Six weeks ago, he was a prince at the Red Keep, playing with Ser Pounce in his chambers. Then the men came, led by the Hand of the King. Mother had warned him not to trust Lord Stark, but it was hard not too. While every other man at court, including his royal father, stood over Tommen and yelled around him, Lord Stark got down on the floor with him, and asked him about Ser Pounce. He played with him instead of talking over him. Tommen was happy to show Lord Stark Ser Pounce, and Ser Pounce seemed to like Lord Stark too. 

Tommen was glad that he left Ser Pounce with Lord Stark's girls. He might have a happy life as a lapcat now with the nice Sansa Stark, even if they did end up going back to Winterfell now that Sansa didn't have to marry his awful brother. 

Pity that the reason for that wasn't that she had punched out Joffrey for saying nasty things to her, like Tommen wished he could do so many times, but because he and his brother were no longer princes. 

Bastards. Everyone had been yelling that world in the Throne room that day. Mother's eyes went feral, and she threw herself in front of the children. It was the most motherly thing that Tommen had ever seen her do, normally she just slapped him for not being as smart or splendid as Joff. The guards of Winterfell had dragged her away from the children to be sentenced in the middle of the room. Mother had never cried, and she didn't cry then. But she didn't shut up either. Loudly she condemned Father for being a useless husband, and screamed that she had only done what a true Queen would do, just like the Targaryens, to maintain the purity of the blood and ensure a rightful king. Tommen didn't understand this bit. He wasn't sure what a husband had to do to be useful, or how blood could be pure, but he thought that Father had been useful. He was the King - wasn't that the most useful thing in the realm? 

Tommen didn't understand any of the accusations that were read out by Lord Renly to Mother and Uncle Jaime, but he understood the sentence. Death isn't hard to understand, even when you're only a little boy. Thankfully Lord Stark had come over to the children and tried to lead them out of the room, but Father said no. "These bastards need to learn what will happen to them if they ever plan on reaching for the same goals as their mother," he said. Joffrey refused to be handled by Lord Stark or the Northern men, demanding that as a royal prince he be allowed to remain and watch his Father's work. That had only made Father laugh louder, and Lord Stark sigh harder. Joffrey didn't seem to understand what any of this meant either. Or perhaps he did, but just didn't want it to be real. 

"You're no prince, you little shit! You're nothing but a baseborn whelp, born of your mother's perverted relationship with her twin brother! You are NOT my son, you are NOT my heir. From now until your death, you will be known as Joffrey WATERS, and you will go to the Wall. You want to serve the realm? THAT is where you will do it!"

Father's words had been so cold. Joffrey was stupid enough to try and fight back, tell Father than he was his heir, but it was no good. Joffrey finally shut up when Father stood up from the Iron Throne and screamed that Joffrey could join his parents in death today if he felt he was too good for the Wall. 

All the way through this, Myrcella had grabbed hold of Tommen and not let him see Mother and Uncle Jaime in chains. Uncle Jaime looked beaten and bruised, apparently he hadn't gone down without a fight. Lord Stark offered Myrcella his arm, and sheltered her and Tommen when Mother and Uncle Jaime were decapitated as traitors to the realm, so that they didn't have to see their family die, even though Father - no, the King, the King insisted that they stay and hear it all. Just in case they got any ideas. Tommen was sure that the only idea he had was that he needed a change of breeches. 

Grandfather, the proud Tywin Lannister, his face had been frozen in a grimace throughout the proceedings. Tommen asked Myrcella why Grandfather wasn't trying to save Mother and Uncle Jaime, Myrcella just told him sadly, "there are some things Grandfather won't do. Shaming House Lannister any further is top of that list. Mother and Uncle Jaime were dead to him as soon as the King told the realm about them." 

Even Uncle Tyrion didn't have his usual grin and charm. Lord Stark had told the court before Uncle Jaime had been brought into the room in his chains, before Mother went mad, that Tyrion Lannister was to be kept in King's Landing. Tommen thought this was to be on the Small Council, which was a fine traditional posting for a man from House Lannister, even a dwarf man that wasn't liked by Grandfather. But Myrcella said it wasn't an honour. "Uncle Tyrion stays in King's Landing as a well kept prisoner now," she explained. "As long as Grandfather does what the King tells him to do, then Uncle Tyrion lives. But if Grandfather rebels against the Crown, or refuses to pay the gold the King is demanding, then Uncle Tyrion will die. So will I. So will you." She then looked at their brother, who was still complaining that he was a prince and could not be shoved around like a baseborn cunt. "Joff will probably already be dead from annoying someone at the Wall." 

Tommen had been so confused by all this. Lord Stark had tried to explain it while they rode North. 

Mother had lied, and Uncle Jaime wasn't Uncle Jaime but their father. And this was wrong because they were brother and sister. Even Joffrey had looked repulsed at this. Tommen was only little, but he knew that the Septon said the Faith did not allow marriage between close kin. That was the reason the dragon kings had been so mad. They married brother to sister for centuries, until Mad King Aerys was the result. Tommen wished he knew why Mother had been so stupid, or why the man he thought was his Father wasn't. Lord Stark said he would understand better when he was older, but that it probably wouldn't ever make sense. Perhaps Mother was just as mad as the Mad King, in her own way? 

All that he knew is that his life was all turned upside down. Myrcella had been sent off to join the Silent Sisters. His lovely sister, who squealed in horror whenever there was a dead bug on the mat, was now going to spend her life washing corpses and silently praying for their souls. Tommen and Joffrey were to go to the Wall, and fight off grumpkins, snarks and wildlings in the snow. 

Lord Stark rode with them as far as Winterfell. The King had granted his Hand a short reprieve to visit his family, and to ensure that the Waters' boys made it to the Wall. Tommen didn't know why Lord Renly had come too, or his squire Ser Loras Tyrell. The younger men laughed between themselves and seemed to be placing bets. Something about how long Joffrey would last at the Wall. At least that Tommen could understand. So far in the journey his brother had continued to behave like his normal self: a big bully confident that the world would kiss his arse. 

Tommen hoped the Wall wouldn't be that bad. At least it would be worth it to see his older brother brought down a peg or two. Joffrey had beaten him up, teased him, thrashed Tommen's things and generally been a horrible older brother for as long as Tommen could remember. Even Lord Stark was chuckling at the thought of Joffrey being reduced to being a lowborn bastard boy at the Wall. 

"They won't kill us for being bastards, will they?" Tommen quietly asked Lord Stark while they rode North. 

Lord Stark looked at the little boy, riding on his horse beside him. While Ned still believed that sending the boys to the Wall was the right sentence, he had come to realise during the journey that little Tommen was nothing like his mad mother or brother. Perhaps he should have suggested Tommen stay at Winterfell as a ward, like Theon, until he was a bit older, then be sent to the Wall. The little boy was too little for the brothers of the Night's Watch. But it was too late now. He couldn't dare show any weakness to Robert now, not when he had just convinced his friend and King that he was every bit the man of steel that his lord father had been. Ned just hoped that Jon and Benjen would keep an eye out for Tommen until he was a bit older, as he'd asked them to do in the raven he sent before leaving Riverrun. 

"No Tommen. No one at the Wall will care that you are a bastard. It's the one place in Westeros where it doesn't matter. If you listen carefully and learn from the older brothers around you, you will be able to have a long and distinguished career in the Night's Watch. My own bastard is at the Wall now, Jon Snow. He took his vows only recently." 

"Oh." Ned's reassurance didn't seem to have the desired effect on the little bastard prince. 

"Yes Tommen, it will be cold, and hard work. Harder than you would have been expecting. But you can become a good man. A good swordsman, a good ranger or steward, or even a builder. Do you like making things?" Ned asked the boy. 

"Um... yes? But Joff says that what I make isn't very good. And he tramples anything I make anyway." Tommen had livened up over the course of the journey, but still spent most of his conversations staring at his horse's saddle. 

Ned snorted. "Well, Joffrey won't be able to trample your work at Castle Black. He won't be allowed to do anything that he isn't ordered to do by Lord Commander Mormont or the other senior members of the Watch." Tommen seemed to brighten up a bit at the prospect of his older, crueler brother being told 'no' for once. For Ned, that spoke volumes about the utterly terrible state of Cersei Lannister's parenting. At least that was the one upside to this whole mess - without the paranoid and narcissistic influence of their mother, Tommen and Myrcelle might turn out to be alright people. Baseborn people, but decent, hardworking and honourable. That would be a fine achievement to build from the wreckage of the golden Lannister twins. 

But Joffrey.... no, there was no hope for that boy. Cruel, arrogant, vain and utterly incapable of responding to direction. Ned had tried to get Renly and that squire of his to tone down their chatter, so as not to spark off another tantrum from the blonde shit, but even he had chipped in with a bet. Two weeks, that's all Ned gave Joffrey Waters. Two weeks before the blonde bastard annoyed his future brothers in black so much that they either sent him off into the woods beyond the Wall on a pointless mission, or shoved him off the Wall. 

Quietly Ned was hoping for the latter.


	4. Jon: Joffrey has been weighed, has been measured.... and has absolutely been found wanting.

_Cersei and Jaime Lannister have been exposed as lovers, and their children disowned by his Grace, King Robert. The two boys, Joffrey and Tommen Waters, have been sentenced to the Wall, their sister has been sent to the Silent Sisters and their parents have been executed for treason._

_Joffrey is beyond hope, suffering from arrogance and delusions of grandeur that would make even Tywin Lannister want to tell him to tone it down. But little Tommen is very little. He's only 8. You were so good with the Stark children Jon, can you please keep an eye out for Tommen until he is old enough to stand up for himself? I regret not suggesting that Tommen be kept at Winterfell as a ward until old enough to join the Watch. I trust that you will help me rectify this error of judgement._

* * *

 

Jon sighed and folded up his father's letter again. He'd had quite enough of that little shit Joffrey at Winterfell before his own journey to the Wall, and wasn't relishing the prospect of facing life in service with the newly decried bastard. But Jon was every bit as honourable as Ned Stark hoped he would be, and had already started working out a plan with Samwell Tarly for them to try and keep Tommen safe, as much as that term was a bit relative at the Wall, until he was old enough to fight his own battles. 

At Sam's suggestion, Jon had shown the Old Bear his father's request. The Lord Commander chuckled when he read it, and said that he had already planned to ask his new steward to do just that when word had been sent to Castle Black from King's Landing of the incoming new formerly royal recruits. Mormont invited Jon to sit by the fire with him after Jon had brought him the Lord Commander's dinner and ale from the kitchens. 

"So, just how bad is this little shit Joffrey?" asked Mormont. 

Jon sighed. "As bad as you can imagine. A stupid little boy, taught by his mother that he was special from birth. He tried to challenge Robb to a duel with live steel in the training yard when the royal court was at Winterfell. Apparently training with blunt tourney swords isn't something princes do!"

The Old Bear snorted into his mug of ale at this. "Well, he'll have that knocked out of him quickly by Ser Allistair. You can tell Joffrey of your own experiences with Ser Thorne" grinned the Lord Commander. 

Jon didn't like this reminder of that part of his training, but knew the Old Bear was just ribbing him. "Ser Allistair is going to have his work cut out for him. My little sister Arya disarmed Joffrey with nothing more than ..." Jon hesitated. Perhaps the Old Bear wouldn't mind that Jon gave Arya Needle, but just in case, "... a stick!" 

This made the Old Bear howl with laughter. "HAR! So this princeling can't even fight off a girl with a stick? Well. That will not do for a man of the Night's Watch. I shall remind Ser Allistair to make sure that this newest recruit is given a thorough lesson in proper sword handling!"

Jon grinned. That will be worth watching. Worth putting up with more of Joffrey's insufferable personality to watch that. 

Taking a sip from his ale, Jon started thinking again about little Tommen. "The younger one though, he's just 8. What are we going to do with him? He can't be in training with the men, especially not some of those taken from the cells for unspeakable acts against young boys and girls." 

The Old Bear looked at his steward somberly. "No. We cannot. We will have to send Tommen to work with Maester Aemon and young Tarly, until he is old enough for proper training. I trust that you and that wolf of yours will ... make it known to the more unsavoury brothers amongst us that young Tommen Waters is no one's play thing. Let me know if there is anyone who shows improper interest in the boy. We will send them off to Eastwatch or Shadow Tower. Somewhere cold enough to freeze their cock until they realise that just because the young prince has been kicked out of luxury, does not mean that we will tolerate their perversions!" 

Jon felt better after this talk with the Old Bear. At least he would be able to write to his father and tell him not to fret over Tommen Waters. Him and Ghost would make sure the boy would survive. Whether or not he thrived there would be up to the boy. 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, the party from the South arrived at Castle Black. Jon had hoped that his father would be there, to see him now as a man of the Watch, but he was disappointed in this. But Robb came up from Winterfell, to escort the prisoners and make sure that the Waters' did not escape from their fate in black.

Ghost and Greywind wrestled around in the yard. The sight of a second direwolf, as large as Ghost but much, much louder was more than enough to put off any of the Night's Watch who might have wanted to scorn Jon for embracing his blood brother when he dismounted.

"Told you I'd come and see you. Look at you - all in black now!" crowed Robb. Jon just grinned, and asked how their journey was.

"Eh. The usual. Lord Renly Baratheon and his "squire" Ser Loras Tyrell had planned to come along to the Wall, but apparently underestimated how cold it was North of Winterfell. They turned about face and commenced their journey back south only a few days after we left Winterfell. They had planned to pay the Watch a visit, so that they could find out who of the betting pool will win." Robb gestured obscenely when he spoke about Lord Renly and Ser Loras. Jon raised his eyebrow at his brother, who gave an exasperated sigh. "Gods you know nothing Jon Snow. They were fucking every night in their tent! Squire - pfft! Ser Loras keeps Lord Renly company, so that his Lordship need never bother finding himself a wife. Until he realises that if he doesn't, then his claim to Storm's End will end up going back to Stannis!"

Unfortunately Sam had come up to the brothers in the last part of this, and became characteristically flustered when dealing with talk of S E X, and nobility.

"Robb, this is my new brother in the Watch, Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill. Well, now he's Samwell of the Stewards, who will probably be off to the Citadel shortly to undertake maester training after learning some more from Maester Aemon."

Robb and Sam shook hands after Jon introduced them. "I'm sure I have much to learn from Maester Aemon yet Jon" said Sam bashfully. "Besides, I'm not sure about the Citadel. My... um, my father said..."

"Never mind about that. You're no longer under your father's thumb, and if the Lord Commander requires a younger maester, you're our best candidate." Jon quickly shut up Sam, mouthing "I'll explain later" to Robb's bewildered face.

"STOP PUSHING ME! I AM A ROYAL PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF BARATHEON!"

"Ah. So our guests of honour have arrived." Jon noted dryly.

"Oh my gods Jon, you have no idea how much more annoying that little shit is now. I swear that the only reason Father didn't come North to see you is that he couldn't stand one more night on the road of listening to Joffrey squawk about how precious he and his belongings are. I've nearly throttled the bastard so many times I've lost count since Winterfell alone!" Robb and Jon stood back to watch the clusterfuck unfold as Ser Allistair Thorne made it abundantly clear that Joffrey **Waters** was no fucking prince now, and he would learn to take orders from his superiors the easy way, or the hard way. 

Further squealing from the bastard former prince was averted when the Old Bear came into the yard. "I am the Lord Commander of The Night's Watch. As long as you live now, you live according to the orders and rules that I set down, or that the First Ranger, First Steward or First Builder set down. Your other option is that we return you to King Robert - short a head. Understand?"

For the first time Jon noticed the little boy Tommen. "Gods, Father was right to worry. He's only a wee thing - smaller than Bran!"

Robb looked at his half brother with concern. "Aye. Quiet too. Joffrey's bullying wasn't limited to house servants from what we've seen on the road. You've got a plan to keep the boy safe - ish?"

Jon nodded, as did Sam. "The Lord Commander has already decided that until he's old enough for proper training, Tommen will only do basic archery and sword work under my supervision. The rest of the time he'll be assigned to work with Sam and Maester Aemon."

"Good. He's got to grow up sooner or later but... he's eight. Let him grow up later," said Robb.  "Tommen!" Robb called the younger boy over, and he came dragging his small bag of meagre possession behind him. "Tommen, this is my brother Jon. He's now a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, so he's really going to be  **your** brother now. As is his friend Sam. They'll show you to your new quarters." 

Tommen was shivering in the cold. "Th-th-thank you Lord Robb." Robb ruffled the younger boy's hair and helped him with his bag, following Jon and Sam into Castle Black's dormitories. 

'Joffrey could carry his own bloody bag' thought Robb. 

"Hey Robb - what exactly did you mean 'betting pool'??" asked Jon as they walked. Robb grinned. He was sure Jon would send a raven to Winterfell to let him know the outcome. And then Robb could collect his winnings - or get Father to do so from Lord Renly once he had got back to King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, chapter title is pinched from A Knight's Tale. Seems apt. Also another fabulous Mark Addy role - not the King this time but the squire. Still funny.


	5. Jon & Co watching Joffrey train under Ser Allistair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which goes about as well as you can expect....

"Has Tommen settled in with Maester Aemon?" Jon asked Dolorous Edd. 

"Yep. Little fella is as happy as a pig in shit, arranging all the quills and parchments in order. Strange kid. You'd never think he was a prince before," said Edd. 

"We might make a decent steward of him yet," said Grenn. Pyp came running along the balcony of Castle Black, carrying a large skin of ale and four mugs.

"Did I miss anything?" Pyp gasped when he reached the others. 

"Nope. It's about to start."

 

Jon and his friends were the not only brothers of the Watch gathered in discreet groups around Castle Black to watch Joffrey Waters' training session with Ser Allistair. Since arriving at the Wall, Joffrey had done nothing to ingratiate himself with his new brothers. So far, he was living up to expectations: squealing tantrums day and night over any number of perceived slights or inadequacies in his new setting, declaring that various tasks were beneath one of such high blood as him, being absolutely fucking useless with a sword, and nearly shitting his pants whenever he saw Ghost. It was so entertaining that Jon had been egged on by the other brothers to encourage Ghost to tail Joff around the Castle, just so they could all enjoy the squealing yells that echoed through the halls when Joffrey discovered his furry shadow. 

'Should probably stop doing that,' mused Jon to himself. 'I need Ghost to be keeping an eye on Tommen.' Just as the Old Bear had predicted, some of the rapists who had been sent to the Wall in years past were taking an interest in the young boy. Tommen wasn't aware of them, and nothing had happened as yet, but there was some movements to Eastwatch and Shadow Tower coming soon, as well as the ranging to be led by Uncle Benjen. While Benjen needed experienced rangers with him, he could take one or two of the more foul of Tommen's new admirers with him. Hopefully the cold beyond the Wall would freeze those arseholes' desire for young boys. 

Below them in the yard, Joffrey Waters was being taken through his paces by Ser Allistair and the rest of the new recruits. Or more accurately, Joffrey Waters was being everyone's favourite punching bag. The men of the Watch had started a drinking game for when Joffrey trained. One sip every time:

  * Joffrey was knocked on his arse
  * Joffrey squealed like a little pig when hit by the blunt training swords
  * Joffrey lunged at his opponent but only waved his sword at air, revealing his poor swordsmanship
  * Joffrey managed to hit himself with his own sword



And of course, down the whole mug of ale if Joffrey landed a blow. So far, no one was yet to scull their whole mug. It had been three weeks. The boy was beyond useless with a sword, despite all of his boasts back in Winterfell about training with live steel and real knights. Terrible at archery too. Couldn't hit the side of a barn wall if he was a foot away from it. 

Jon hadn't been able to resist a few digs at the blonde shit when he took a turn in the training yard with him. Ser Allistair still hated Jon's guts, but now he had a new toy to play with, and eventually came to Jon utterly exasperated with Joffrey's inability to perform basic maneuveres with a sword. "I know you trained your younger brothers at Winterfell, and I've seen you work with the younger one, Tommen. See if you can get anywhere with him Lord Snow!" 

At first Jon tried to resist giving Joffrey shit for his pisspoor technique or attitude, and genuinely tried to help the younger boy. But Joffrey was so arrogant he refused to listen to Jon. Even when everyone in the training yard, including Ser Allistair, told Joffrey that Jon was trying to help him, the shithead still declared that he was not to be trained by bastard born scum like Snow. That was it. Jon gave in to his hatred for the bastard would-be prince, and hammered him. Perhaps he went too far, but he extra mugs of ale at dinner that night from all those who had watched made that guilt easier to drown.

The realities of being declared a bastard seemed to have flown past Joffrey Waters with barely a whistle. Stupid shit was slowly learning that he was not to declare himself a royal prince anymore, but even scrubbing the toilets of Castle Black with nought but a small rag had stopped him from boasting about the glory of House Lannister. He had now accepted that he wasn't the heir of the royal house of Baratheon, but apparently revelled in being pure Lannister. It was almost as if he believed his mother's bullshit and would tell anyone who would listen in the training yard that he was the son of a great soldier, the finest King's Guard knight. 

That went down well with the many Targaryen loyalists who had been exiled to the Wall in lieu of a death sentence after the Rebellion, including Ser Allistair, who made Joffrey Waters prove himself a lion with a thousand burpees in the training yard that day. In full armour. While everyone else watched. Predictably, Joff only made it to twenty. It took him several hours, and much whinging.

 

"Haven't you men got something better to do that watch this little shit train - or pretend to train?" 

The blaring gruff voice of their Lord Commander shook all of the watching Watch from their ale-fuelled midday entertainment. Suddenly everyone tried to look very busy in their patch of Castle Black. Apparently Dolorous Edd was inspecting the wall for spiders. 

The Old Bear thumped his way over to Jon. "Not going to lie boys - I've also enjoyed watching the little bastard get taken down a few pegs, but we've got to stop this. We can't stop all our work everyday to watch some fucking bastard get his arse handed to him over and over again because he's too arrogant to take a few tips from the men who would be his sworn brothers if he ever demonstrated enough basic competence to take his oath." 

Jon was impressed with the Old Bear's strategy. That lecture wasn't aimed at the many brothers of the Night's Watch who were joining Edd in studiously inspecting Castle Black for spiders and other specks of dust. Jon kept his eyes on that blonde head in the training yard. Yes, yes - the telltale sign of pink ears and a flushed neck. 

Joffrey Waters had heard that message, and for once understood it: here at Castle Black, he was worth less than shit. 

Progress, thought Jon.


End file.
